I Am No Saint

Come from your grounded throne, your perch up on high

Why do you think it is, that I build highways in the sky?

A few years ago wealth was scarcer but love seemed not an issue

Now that beloved has forsaken me, money is merely kleenex tissue

Gold wherever we go

Pearls wherever we turn

Product of prayers conducted without haste

We tend to find silver bars even in the waste

I am no saint, I was born of a cellar from the greatest of wine sellers

I am no saint, I am destiny unravelled by the greatest of fortune tellers

It’s from الله‎